“No, and if you make any more fun of me I sha’n’t tell you a thing! So there, Tom Swift!” and Mary pouted bewitchingly. “Mercy! I’ll be good!” he promised. His sense of humor was rudely shaken a moment later as Mary went on: “While Kate and I were eating our lunch three men were eating at the next table—eating and talking. We didn’t purposely listen—that is, not until after I heard one of them mention the Swift Construction Company. But then, as you can imagine, Tom, I was all ears. I shamelessly listened after that, and though I didn’t hear all that was said I caught enough to know that they were talking about something like a tidal engine. Is there any such thing, Tom?” “Is there, Mary? I should say there is! It’s one of my latest and best inventions! I believe I can harness the ocean with it—at least, a part of the tide. But go on—what did they say about the tidal engine?” “One of the men seemed angry that you hadn’t sold it to them. He spoke of Mr. Damon and said it was too bad—or words to that effect—that Mr. Damon’s negotiations had fallen through.” “Go on,” urged Tom, as Mary hesitated a moment. “This is interesting, and it may be vitally important. Go on!” “Then they spoke something about mill machinery,” resumed the girl. “I couldn’t get that very plainly—I don’t know much about mechanics—but they spoke of a turbine grinder. Is that right?” “That’s right!” exclaimed Tom. “But it will be all wrong if they get on to any of my plans in that respect. I’m mighty glad you listened to this talk, Mary! Who were the men—I mean what did they look like?” “I’ll describe them to you as well as I can. I had never seen any of them before, as far as I know. The whole trend of the conversation was to the effect that they had tried unsuccessfully, through Mr. Damon, to get you or your father to sell them some or all of the rights in these inventions. Is that the case?” “Yes. Mr. Damon came to me some time ago—the day he landed on the roof in his little plane—and wanted me to consider negotiations. But I sent word by him to these fellows, who were represented by Mr. Blythe, not to bother, for I wasn’t in the market.” “I didn’t hear Mr. Blythe’s name mentioned,” said Mary, knitting her forehead into a series of wrinkles as she tried to recall all the details of the affair. “But there was some one whose name began with B—let me see—I wrote it down.” She fumbled in her pocket and brought out a slip of paper on which she had written one word—Blodgett. “That’s the man, Tom,” she said. “Mr. Blodgett. One of the three who were talking near our table remarked: ‘Never mind. I think Blodgett will fix it.’ Those were the words he used.” “Hum,” mused Tom. “Blodgett—and he will fix it. Fix what, I wonder?” “That I can’t say,” answered Mary, for Tom had spoken aloud. “Right after one of the men said that, all three went out. I didn’t know what to do. I kept wishing you had been there. But I made up my mind I’d tell you about it as soon as I could.”